


the head of the neighborhood watch (five times alice cooper is the annoying neighbor and one time she isn't)

by bloodredcherries



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-12 14:25:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15997061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodredcherries/pseuds/bloodredcherries
Summary: It’s not like Alice means to stick her nose in The Andrews's business. It’s just, they make it so easy, and she is the head of the neighborhood watch. Sure, she might be the only member of the neighborhood watch, but if Hal just believes she’s using it to get dirt on the neighbors for the Register, well…The thing about the Neighborhood Watch, you see, is that it doesn’t actually exist. Alice wasn’t even the one that made it up! But if being the head of the neighborhood watch meant that she and Hal got dirt for the paper, and no one looked twice at her speaking to FP Jones? Well...the man had been in the Army, after all. No one could say he was dumb.





	1. Chapter 1

“What is  _ he _ doing here?” Alice demanded of Mary Andrews, cornering her in the kitchen, completely unamused at the situation she had walked in on. Alice had been seething when Hal had demanded that she be the one to take time off of work to escort Elizabeth and Polly to Archie Andrews’ sixth birthday party (he had said something unbelievably offensive about it being women’s work, and it had taken all of her self-control to not smash the nearest dictionary across his face when he had), but, considering which of the Jones’ parents had elected to accompany Jughead...well, whatever. Alice had taken one look at FP Jones  _ sitting _ on the Andrews's couch, and abandoned her children to mix with the others, stalking off in pursuit of the lady of the house. “Where is Gladys?”

 

“She’s not feeling well,” Mary replied, taking a sip from her glass of wine. “The baby is due any day now, so she’s at home resting. FP brought Jughead instead. I don’t see what the big deal is,” she added. “We were all friends, Alice.”

 

Of course Mary didn’t see what the big deal was, she thought to herself, glancing around the room. Mary was  _ allowed _ to associate with the Joneses, Fred and FP were business partners, their families were friends. Alice, on the other hand, was married to Hal, who she felt she could safely assume was  _ not _ friends with FP, and would never be. It wasn’t like she and FP had ever really been friends, truth be told. They’d been in love, stupid though being in love had been, especially when they were stuck on the Southside with no way out. They’d been in that  _ stupid _ gang together, and he’d called her his  _ queen _ . Not to mention, the baby -- not that FP knew about Charles, because she had done the proper thing and gone away and the Sisters had given the baby to a nice family, she was sure of it -- another thing that had tied her to FP and the Southside that she tried desperately to erase.

 

But, whatever, she groaned inwardly. It was too complicated to explain to Mary.

 

“Yeah, if that’s what you want to call it,” she settled on. What could she say? Hal wouldn’t allow her to stay if he knew FP was there? She wasn’t even certain if that was true and she didn’t want to ask Hal to find out. And Mary? Mary was studying to be some high powered lawyer. She would probably think Hal not wanting her around people was abusive, or whatever the latest buzzword was. It wasn’t. Hal just didn’t trust her around people from the Southside. It wasn’t like she’d ever proven that she  _ could _ be trusted.

 

She grabbed a beer from the fridge and returned to the living room, scanning the room for someone other than FP that she could pretend she was friends with. Of course, there really were none. Alice associated with the other mothers in the PTA, but they were just colleagues, not anyone she would consider a friend. And the scathing articles that the Register published tended to put her and Hal in an untouchable zone. Children’s parties were boring, and Alice sensed that Elizabeth and Polly would not want her involving herself in the games that they were playing with their friends, so she weighed her chances carefully, and reluctantly sat on the couch beside FP, not exactly sitting  _ with _ him, but...she would acknowledge him if he acknowledged her.

 

“Alice  _ Cooper _ ,” he said, his tone low, and she gave him a brief, impenetrable look. “I thought you were too good to associate with the likes of me.”

 

“ _ Forsythe _ ,” she said in acknowledgement, taking a sip of the beer, not caring that it was the middle of the afternoon and that Coopers didn’t drink beer and certainly not while it was daylight. “It appears that our children share a mutual friend.” 

 

“Oh, so it’s  _ Forsythe _ now?” FP retorted, and if Alice didn’t know better (and Alice  _ always _ knew better, even if it was more than she could expect from others), she would say that his tone sounded...flirtatious. “What happened to Jonesy? Or even FP?”

 

She let out a sigh, glowering at him for the ‘Jonesy’ comment. Was he insane? Sure, Mary and Fred knew that she and FP shared some sort of history, but they were the  _ only _ people at Archie’s birthday party that did. And there went FP, with his  _ Jonesy _ comment. “Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll call you FP.” She took another sip of beer. “I heard that congratulations are in order,” she allowed. “On the impending arrival.” 

 

In another world, where things had been different, perhaps people at Archie’s sixth birthday party would be congratulating her and FP for their impending arrival, but Alice had made her choices and she had taken the out that she had desperately needed from the Southside, and if she regretted it because FP himself had somehow managed to semi-legitimize himself and manage Andrews Construction with Fred...well, that was just a regret she wouldn’t share with anyone, let alone her husband or the one she had let get away. And, if she was thinking about Charles and a world where FP knew about him, well, that was just  _ foolish _ . 

 

“Should be any day now,” he said. “If it’s a girl, we’re going to name her Forsythia.” 

 

“ _ Forsythia _ ?” Alice parroted. “After the  _ flower _ ?”

 

FP smirked, shaking his head. “Nah, after Jug,” he said. “Forsythe and Forsythia.”

 

“I…” It was rare that Alice Cooper found herself speechless, and yet, speechless she was. “Do you want a daughter?” She settled on, rather than trying to fathom out loud the idiocies of FP and Gladys’s naming conventions. 

 

“Would be nice,” he said, his tone casual. “One of each, you know?”

 

“Right,” she agreed, hastily. “One of each.” 

 

“What about you?” He asked. “Going to go for a  _ third _ ?”

 

No one that was old enough to get the meaning behind his emphasis on the word third was within earshot, a fact that Alice was eternally grateful for (she did not want her Northside downfall to come at the hands of nosy busibodies listening in on her conversation with FP Jones and deducing correctly that it would not be a third she was going for, were she going to be going for one), but she glared at him nonetheless. 

 

“I don’t think so,” she said. “Polly and Elizabeth are enough for me.” 

 

“And for Hal?” 

 

She arched a brow. “Hal doesn’t get an opinion here.” It was bold of her to admit to FP, especially in mixed company, but she admitted it nonetheless. Maybe it was out of some desire to prove that she had some control over how things worked in her marriage, maybe it was because she wanted to convince FP that her marrying Hal to escape the Southside hadn’t been a mistake, whatever it was, Alice didn’t entirely know. “And he didn’t then, either,” she whispered.

 

“Are you happy?” He asked. 

 

“Are you?” 

 

“Gladys loves me,” he said. “I’ve got a good job, Jughead’s a good kid. We’ve got a house,” he added. “You should write about that in your paper.”

 

“You read the Register?” She took a good look at FP, eying him with fresh eyes. It had been awhile since she’d seen her old boyfriend. It was possible that he’d changed.

 

“Read a lot of things, Alice,” he said. “Bound to pick one up once in awhile, see what you’ve been up to.”

 

“I guess I didn’t realize,” she admitted. “I mean…”

 

“What?” 

 

In the corner of her eye, Alice saw the sharp glance that Fred Andrews directed at her, and she elected to keep her mouth shut. It would be so  _ unbecoming _ to start screaming at FP at a child’s birthday party, after all. If she did, it would get around to Hal, and it would become another thing to Lord over her, like all of the secrets she’d dared to divulge. 

 

“Nothing,” she lied. 

 

How could she explain to FP how much he’d  _ hurt  _ her? How much there had been some part of Alice Cooper that was still Alice Smith that  _ missed _ him, missed the Serpents, missed what they could have had in some  _ fantasy  _ world she concocted where she would leave Hal and he would leave Gladys, and they could be a family together? How when she looked at Jughead, she saw glimpses of what Charles must have looked like at some point, though she knew he’d be older now. It was true that she had picked Hal over FP, but she had been  _ scared _ . The time she’d spent at the Sisters of Quiet Mercy had seriously clouded her judgment, and truthfully she still wasn’t sure she’d recovered from what they’d done. Though whether it was what they’d done or what she was scared Hal would do was a question of semantics. 

 

Sometimes she thought of doing an expose of them. 

 

It was easier to write pieces about the Southside, because she knew that she was still protected by them, whether she wanted to think about it or not. 

 

“Al--”

 

“I said,  _ it was nothing _ ,” she snapped, downing the rest of the beer, like she was back in the Wyrm and not sitting in a suburban house with a group of PTA mothers staring at the two of them, at a  _ six year old’s  _ birthday party. She rose, shooting the onlookers a haughty look, and she returned to the kitchen, intent on getting herself something stronger. 

 

If Mary and Fred Andrews thought it was funny to have Alice and FP hang out together like ‘old time friends’, they were more than willing to give up their hard liquor, whether they knew about their generosity or not. 

 

“I didn’t know you wanted to have a toast,” a familiar voice drawled in her ear, and it took all of Alice’s self preservation to not drop the bottle of tequila she had unearthed from the cabinet all over the floor. “That’s real sweet, Al, but you don’t have to toast us.”

 

“It’s been  _ years _ ,” she pointed out, pouring out two glasses (and wasn’t it ever so  _ kind _ of Mary and Fred to allow Alice to use their biggest ones?) of the beverage in question, her irritation at the man in question not overruling her politeness. “Where  _ were  _ you, FP? I came home and you were  _ gone _ . Fred told me that you  _ enlisted! _ ” 

 

Alice wanted to point out that she’d  _ needed _ FP, she’d needed _ anyone _ to love her after what she’d gone through at the nunnery, which was  _ why _ she had fallen back in with Hal in the first place. But, what was the point? She was married to Hal and he was married to Gladys, and  _ fuck it all _ FP and Gladys were having a damned  _ baby _ together and even vindictive Alice Cooper wasn’t going to wreck a home. The Jones’ home, rather. She was dubious she cared much about her own, besides the appearances. 

 

“Why shouldn’t we toast?” She asked. “You’re having a baby, that’s good, right?” She handed him the other glass. “I am happy for you,” she said. “You  _ deserve _ to be happy.”

 

“I’m gonna go have a smoke,” he said, pulling the pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket, putting one in his mouth before reclaiming his drink. “Wanna come with?”

 

Northside Alice protested deeply to smoking cigarettes with FP Jones, but Southside Alice thought this was the best idea ever. Rational Alice realized that despite Fred and Mary being present (they seemed to be focused on the children), FP Jones was the closest thing she had to a friend there. She didn’t want to go back out and deal with Bernadette Klump and Linnette Mantle. She was sure they’d have questions and she didn’t have any answers. 

  
  


***

  
  


“You should tell ‘em you’re on the neighborhood watch,” FP told her casually, as she sat beside him on the  _ ridiculous _ porch swing that Fred and Mary had, stealing puffs of his smokes. “I mean, they’re  _ going _ to ask you, Al. I am the Serpent King.”

 

“We don’t have a neighborhood watch,” she told him. “Where do you come up with these ideas?”   
  


“Lie,” he said. “Tell ‘em that you and Cooper are the ones that run it, that will explain why no one else knows.”

 

“Right, and the reason we’re drinking a handle of tequila is…?”

 

“You needed to grill the enemy,” he supplied, smirking. He lit another cigarette. “You  _ know _ Hal will buy it.” 

 

“Hal’s an idiot,” she said, flatly. “Am I ever going to meet this mysterious Gladys?”

 

It wasn’t that Alice really wanted to meet her replacement, far from it, it was just that Elizabeth and Jughead were friends, and either she or Hal needed to meet his mother. And annoyed though Alice was that she’d  _ been _ replaced, she was not subjecting Gladys to an encounter with him. Plus, FP seemed  _ excited _ about little...hopefully not Forsythia. 

 

“Come by when the baby is born,” he suggested. “Bring the girls, so you have an excuse for Hal. You can meet them both.”

 

“I’d like that.” It’s not a lie, much to Alice’s surprise. She  _ would _ like to meet Gladys, and she’s always been a sucker for a newborn baby. “You really think it will be soon?”

 

FP nodded. “She’s overdue, so hopefully.”

 

“I gave the baby up.” 

 

Alice always claimed that her baby was no one but hers, given the way that FP and Hal had reacted so  _ childishly _ over the fact that she was pregnant, but the truth was that she had done the math and the baby  _ was _ FP’s, so she supposed he deserved to know what she knew as the truth. The baby had gone to a good family, and the adoption was closed.

 

“I figured,” he said, sighing quietly. “Can’t really blame you.”

 

“It was for the best,” she said. “For everyone.”

 

“It’s okay,” he said. “I still want you to meet Jellybean.”

 

“I thought you were naming her Forsythia?” 

 

In a toss up between horrible names, Alice honestly wasn’t sure which one was worse. Still, the part of her that still thought of FP fondly (which of  _ course _ wasn’t all of her, no, Hal’s insinuations that she still had feelings for Jones were  _ unfounded _ ) thought it was cute that he was excited for the impending arrival. 

 

“Jellybean’s gonna be her nickname,” he supplied. He sighed. “You’re right. I should have told you that I was enlisting myself, instead of having Fred do it. I pussied out. You were so angry at me, and at Cooper, that I just...I thought if I enlisted it would be better. Make me legitimate. Maybe if I’d told you that you would have given me a shot.” He shook his head. “I just didn’t want you to wait around for me to get my act together. You deserve your fancy Northsider life, with your fancy house and your husband that’s fucking perfect --”

 

“He’s not,” she admitted. “Hal, he’s not.”   
  


“Sure looks like he is,” he muttered. “Anyways, I came home and you were married to Cooper and you were  _ pregnant _ , and I knew I had lost my chance. I wasn’t going to wreck your marriage. It was one thing when you were just  _ dating _ the sack of meat.”   
  


Alice pursed her lips. Sack of meat  _ was _ an apt description for Hal, even though it  _ was  _ somewhat unflattering. 

 

She took a gulp of her drink.

 

“We had to get married,” she allowed. “There was a correlation between the events.” She shook her head. “Not as easy to make things go away once you’re out of high school.” She sighed. “Alright,” she decided.

 

“Alright?” FP echoed.

 

“I don’t see the harm in your suggestion,” she elaborated. Perhaps it was the tequila that  _ really _ thought his suggestion was great, but, whatever. “About the Neighborhood Watch.” 

 

“They’ll think Hal and I are just spying on them to dig up scandals for the paper, and Hal will think that I’ve come up with a creative way to do just that.”

 

“And?”   
  


“And if it  _ happens _ that the head of the Neighborhood Watch needs to  _ deal _ with the King of the Serpents…? What’s Hal going to say? The Register doesn’t want to be tough on crime?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As far as Alice was concerned, an OUI that he could appeal would be a small price for Fred to pay for hopefully regaining sobriety and sanity.
> 
>  
> 
> And if she thought Tom Keller was a complete and utter imbecile for thinking that there actually was a Neighborhood Watch in town, that would be her little secret.
> 
>  
> 
> Well. Maybe she would tell Forsythe. If the wine he’d picked out was decent enough.

The Neighborhood Watch had sort of become a bit of an amusing joke for Alice Cooper over the years since Archie Andrews’ sixth birthday party. It was sort of unfortunate how quickly the other PTA moms had bought the ridiculous tale, and she had definitely questioned how on earth Hal had managed to become Editor in Chief of the Register when he had bought what she was saying wholesale, but such stupidity on everyone’s parts  _ did _ tend to work in Alice’s favor. If watching the neighborhood mainly consisted of her occasionally peering into the houses on the street with binoculars, or finding ways to  _ speak to _ (flirt with) FP Jones...well, at least she was having fun.

 

It was a bit annoying that she sensed she was going to have to take her fictitious duties  _ seriously _ that evening. 

 

No, FP wasn’t carousing around the neighborhood, Serpents on bikes in tow. Honestly, given that Hal was off in DC, she probably would have let him. 

 

It was worse. 

 

Mary Andrews had moved out. 

 

Which, in itself, was fine with Alice. She  _ was  _ a bit offended that she hadn’t even warranted a goodbye, or a warning, but she would deal with that in time. 

 

It was Fred. The normally mild-mannered construction worker had decided to see how quickly he could destroy his liver, and Alice’s limited patience for histrionics. 

 

Also fine with her. If Fred wanted to give himself cirrhosis, who was she to stop him? 

 

The only reason she cared was because of Archibald. It was true that she found him increasingly more annoying as he and Elizabeth grew up, but she did  _ not _ appreciate having to pick up the broken pieces of the boy while Fred drank himself into a stupor.  _ That _ , Alice decided, was  _ unacceptable _ . 

 

Which was why she was on her front porch.

 

If there was  _ another _ night of drunken  _ noise _ coming from the house across the street, Alice was going to drag Fred Andrews to the rehabilitation center by the hair, whether he actually needed to go to rehab or not. Weeks --  _ months _ , she corrected herself -- of fighting between Fred and Mary about things that Alice could barely bring herself to care about but yet thanks to the volume of the warring couple and the way the wind traveled she now knew in  _ intimate _ detail, had led to Mary Andrews going ‘on the run’. 

 

Alice had been momentarily concerned when Archibald had informed her that his mother had run away, but, some gentle prodding of the child (okay, she might have grilled him) had established that the two had separated and that Mary had gone to live in Chicago. Which, she supposed, might have been the reason that Fred had decided to drink his way through his entire liquor cabinet. 

 

She still didn’t approve. 

 

Elizabeth and Polly were watching a movie with Archie in Hal’s finished basement (Alice was counting herself lucky that he was away covering the latest political brouhaha in DC when Fred elected to have his nervous breakdown -- the children weren’t allowed in what he referred to as his ‘man cave’, and she was sure that he wouldn’t have seen that she had broken that rule for the greater good -- but the fact remained that he was coming back the next day, and she was very dubious that he would be thrilled if Archie spent the night with the girls), as she herself glared at the house across the street, as if that would convince its occupant to man up and sober up. 

 

“Mom,” she heard Polly say, and she whirled around, somewhat embarrassed she’d been caught spying so blatantly. 

 

“Yes, darling?” 

 

“I think that Archie’s afraid to go home,” she said, gazing into Alice’s eyes, the tone of her voice brokering no argument. “He wanted to know if we can watch another movie.”

 

“Yes,” she said. “Pick something out on the pay per view,” she added. “Make sure it’s appropriate.”

 

“Even though the streetlights are on?” Polly asked. Alice nodded, her jaw set. This was absolutely  _ ludicrous _ . 

 

“Yes,” she confirmed. “I’m going to go talk to Fred,” she decided, doubling back into the house to get her wallet out of her handbag. “Why don’t you ask Archie and Betty what they want to eat, and you can order it?” She handed Polly some money. “Special treat for movie night,” she told her eldest, leaning over and kissing her on the forehead. “Maybe...don’t eat in Dad’s space, though?”

 

“Of course not, Mom,” she agreed. “Will you take your phone?”

 

“Yes.” Polly was increasingly neurotic tonight, she noted, not admitting so out loud. She didn’t exactly blame her. The last few days had been...trying. “Call me if you need to,” she told her. “I’ll just be across the street.”

 

“Archie says he’s being  _ mean _ ,” she said. “That that’s why his mom ran away and why he came here.”

 

“I’ll deal with it, Polly,” she said, slipping on her jacket as she did. “Trust me, I can be  _ much _ meaner than he is.”

 

She strode across the street,  _ determined _ to put a stop to this  _ insanity _ .

  
  


***

  
  


“I beg your pardon,” Alice said, busying herself bagging up Fred’s empties, determined to not have it appear that the man and his son lived in a hovel. “Come again?”

 

“I  _ said _ , I’m thinking of heading to the Wyrm,” he repeated. 

 

“So I can add ‘suicidal’ to your growing list of issues?” She asked, her tone weary. “Under no circumstances are you wandering off to the  _ Whyte Wyrm _ , Frederick. That is quite  _ possibly _ the stupidest thing I have heard from you.”

 

“FP goes there,” he said. He sounded downright pathetic. 

 

“Yes, that’s because he’s  _ from the Southside _ ,” she told him. “He’s a member of the Southside community. He’s  _ allowed _ in the Wyrm.” She abandoned her cleaning to glare at him. “If I hear that Forsythe took you to the  _ Whyte Wyrm _ , especially in your current condition, it will be the  _ last thing _ that man does.”

 

“What would you hear about it?”

 

“What was that?” She asked, her tone icy. “I hear  _ everything _ , Fred. I have a connection with  _ everyone _ in this podunk pep-filled  _ town _ . Don’t you wonder where your child is?”

 

“I ‘sumed he was with you.”   
  


“You  _ assumed _ he was with me?” She queried. “What if the girls and I had gone to DC with Hal?” Not that Alice would have done so, but the implication that she was being used as a default sitter was not amusing to her. “By the way, he’s coming back tomorrow, so you definitely need to dry out. No trips to bars you know better than to be in,” she commanded. “No...drinking copious amounts of liquor in lieu of dealing with your feelings. Time to be a big boy, Fred. Mary is gone and she left and that’s very sad, but you can’t go on like this.”

 

“What about  _ you _ ?” Fred blurted, and Alice eyed him with bemusement. “I’m not dumb, Alice. Yours left too.”   
  


“Are you  _ serious _ ?” She demanded. “How dare you imply that I empathize with you because of a high school romance that ended like most do, with barely a goodbye? Do you see me drinking into a stupor on a daily basis because I don’t want to be an adult and want to wallow about childish fantasies that were never going to come true?”   
  


“I grew up, Fred,” she said. “So did FP. So you can just...I’m leaving.”

 

“What?”

 

“You heard me. Go to the Wyrm. Have a  _ blast _ . Say hi to Hog Eye for me.” Alice shook her head. “But I swear to you, Fred, if you cause FP to backslide…If FP backslides, you’ll  _ wish _ you hadn’t.”

 

In a thoroughly infuriated mood, Alice stalked back across the street, slamming the door to her house rather loudly. How dare Fred make those insinuations? It was obnoxious enough that she had to hear them from Hal. She didn’t need Fred fueling his FP-hating flames. Or, frankly, Fred around FP in general if he wasn’t going to be drinking so heavily. What was the  _ matter _ with him?

 

“I see you,” she said, directing the comment to Archie, who was pretending he was particularly adept at hiding. “How would you feel about a sleepover?”

 

“Here?” Archie asked. 

 

“I was thinking, maybe with Jughead?” She suggested. “Mr. Cooper will be back very early tomorrow, it wouldn’t be fun for you at all.”

 

Archie considered this solemnly, before nodding.

 

“Can they come over for dinner?” He asked. Alice blinked. “I mean, we haven’t ordered yet and Polly thought you might be bringing my dad, so I wanted to wait…”   
  
“I suppose,” she allowed. “Would it make you feel better?”   
  


 

***

  
  


“Put that  _ away _ ,” Alice admonished, batting in the direction of the cigarette FP had been about to light. “Are you  _ insane _ ? Smoking a cigarette in  _ Hal’s _ house? Are you trying to have us both found out?”   
  


“We’re not doing anything wrong, Alice,” FP insisted. “You were the one who said Red needed to spend the night, and would you and Gladys like to come with the kids for dinner.”   
  


“Be that as it may,” she allowed. “You know Hal. The man can only deal with so much before he drives me crazy. And the girls are already noticing it.” 

 

“So leave him,” he suggested. 

 

“You know I can’t,” she said. “It’s not that simple.”   
  


“Nothing is, is it?”

 

“I don’t think it ever was,” she sighed. 

 

“What’s with the whole sleepover idea?” He continued, leaning dangerously close to her. “Isn’t tomorrow a  _ school day _ ? I thought you’d be too Northside to allow that.”

 

“Are you serious?” Alice asked. “Where have you  _ been _ , FP? Don’t you  _ work _ with his father?”

 

“Haven’t seen him for a few days,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders. Alice stared, feeling the headache that had nagged at her since Mary had left throb. She needed a glass of wine. “Assumed he and Mary were on one of her weird  _ couples retreats _ .” 

 

Was Alice really the only person that  _ bothered _ to keep obsessive tabs on people’s general whereabouts? Honestly. 

 

“Mary’s gone,” she said. “And while I’ve been  _ here _ , with all of these  _ children _ , your business partner has been seeing how quickly he can go through bottles of expensive liquor and ruin his  _ liver _ . I can’t keep Archie another night. Hal won’t have it. Elizabeth and Polly are too old now. It would be improper.” She sighed. “If you’re going to be out here with me, can you grab me a bottle of wine? Pick something you and Gladys will like. Earn your keep.” She gestured over at Hal’s collection of expensive wines, making a shooing motion as she did. “I’m going to go check on the children.”

 

They weren’t really children, though, were they? Well, Alice supposed Jellybean was, being six years old, but Polly was a teenager now, and the next year the other three would follow suit. They were growing up. 

 

She really didn’t know how much she approved. 

 

“Is everything going okay?” She asked. “Does anyone need anything?” Polly briefly glanced in her direction, before returning her attention to Jellybean, who had managed to find Elizabeth and Polly’s old dollhouse that Alice had been rather unwilling to put away. “No?”

 

“I think I have it under control,” Gladys said, from her position on Hal’s chair (thank God he wasn’t there to see that, she could already hear his reaction to a  _ Southside Serpent _ using  _ his furniture _ , the tattoo that was hidden on her hip a display to his  _ utter _ hypocrisy), and, unfortunately for her desire to be in control, from what Alice could see, that was true. “You don’t have to worry so much, Alice. They’re good kids.”

 

“I know they are,” she said. “Thank you for taking Archie tonight. I don’t think that going home would be a good idea.”

 

“Mom?” Betty interrupted, her eyes worried. “Mom, was Mr. Andrews drunk when you went over?” 

 

“I hardly think that is an appropriate --”

 

“What’s the matter, honey?” Gladys asked, effectively aborting Alice’s lecture about involving oneself in the problems of others being an  _ adult _ proclivity, not one of a child’s concern. “Did something happen?”

 

Elizabeth nodded slowly, clenching her hands into fists as she did, looking both much younger and much older than her almost-twelve years, despite the unicorn festooned shirt she had on under her corduroy jumper. 

 

“I’m not actually sure,” she admitted. “I just...should he be driving? I didn’t think drunk people should drive, but I think he’s going to. Juggie and I saw him through the window.”

 

Alice gaped, and she allowed Elizabeth to lead her over to the window, where, indeed, there was Fred Andrews attempting to drive. 

 

“I’m calling the police,” she said. “This is  _ ridiculous. _ He is going to get himself  _ killed _ .”

 

“You’re calling 911?” Betty said. “Won’t he get arrested? Mom!”

 

“I’m calling Tom Keller,” she corrected. “Being arrested is the  _ least _ of the things that could happen.” 

  
  


***

  
  


“What did you say you were, again, Mrs. Cooper?” Tom Keller asked Alice tiredly, while Fred was sat in the back of his patrol car, thankfully one that had been parked outside of the children’s vantage point. 

 

“I’m the head of the Neighborhood Watch,” she said. “It was my  _ duty _ to report him, Sheriff Keller.”

 

“And I thank you for doing so,” he said. “Is there a  _ reason _ we can’t have this conversation inside?”

 

“My children are in there,” she said. “They’re very impressionable. I don’t want them to hear about Fred like this.” Her expression was one of innocence, and she hoped it didn’t scream ‘and Fred’s Serpent business partner is in my house and you might arrest him’, but, rather ‘concerned, overbearing, mother’, Fortunately, Keller seemed to be buying it. 

 

“I understand,” he said. “I have a son, too. I want to protect him as much as I can.”

 

She smiled sweetly. “So, would you say that we’re done?”

 

“Yes. I’ll bring Mr. Andrews here down to the station, a night in the cells might sober him up. He’ll be able to appeal the OUI.”

 

“Thank you, Sheriff.” 

 

As far as Alice was concerned, an OUI that he could appeal would be a small price for Fred to pay for hopefully regaining sobriety and sanity.

 

And if she thought Tom Keller was a complete and utter imbecile for thinking that there actually was a Neighborhood Watch in town, that would be her little secret. 

 

Well. Maybe she would tell Forsythe. If the wine he’d picked out was decent enough.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not trying to distract you,” he said. “I’m being serious. It’s not safe for her there.”

It’s FP that brings up Alice’s latest opportunity to spy. 

 

She’s already annoyed about the fact that (according to Betty), Archie has had no attempts at therapy, or  _ anything _ beyond what was said between the lot of them that day in the music room at Riverdale High, so when FP showed up at the Register (of all places!!!), semi-sobered up, and looking for her, she decided to indulge the man. Whatever. She was annoyed at Hal anyways. Hal was a constant source of annoyance for her at the moment. 

 

“I heard that they’re banging,” FP said, and Alice (who had sort of assumed they were talking about their children, whom she knows are dating) felt her jaw drop at his flippancy, and, frankly, the topic in general. “Fred and Hermione,” he clarified. 

 

“Don’t be so crude,” she settled on, once her heart had stopped racing. “They’re engaging in an adulterous affair, what makes you think that they’re  _ banging _ ?”

 

“Easy,” he said. “I tried to get into the office at work today and the door was locked and there was a sock on the door.”

 

“That is disgusting,” she said. “Why do you tell me these things?”   
  


“You told me to keep an eye on the two of them!” FP defended himself. “I’m only doing your bidding!”   
  


“I said ‘keep an eye on them’ not ‘tell me about your time as a voyeur’,” she told him. “What is wrong with Fred?”

 

“He thinks Hermione is hot,” he supplied, shrugging his shoulders. “Are you really surprised?”

 

“No wonder Archibald has such poor judgement,” she said with a sigh. “It was obviously inherited.” 

 

“What are you talking about?” FP asked. “That...Mallory chick? From the Kittycat Club?”

 

“What are  _ you _ talking about?” Alice asked. “Are you talking about that age appropriate  _ paramour _ that sings in that backing band to Sierra McCoy’s daughter? If so, her name is  _ Valerie _ and that band is called  _ Josie and the Pussycats _ , not the  _ Kittycat Club _ . And that is not who I’m referring to,” she added. “Honestly, FP, I know that Jughead is living in that  _ den of debauchery  _ and not with you, but are you telling me that that boy hasn’t told you why Geraldine Grundy left town so suddenly?” 

 

Alice was very disappointed in Jughead. What was the point of allowing him to date Elizabeth if he wasn’t going to pass along her little victories to his father? If Alice was going to contact FP herself and lord over every little thing she’d ever done, neither of them would get anything done. 

 

“What did you do?” He asked. 

 

“I did  _ nothing _ ,” she said, rolling her eyes at the thought. “I actually did  _ nothing _ , Forsythe.”

 

“It’s never nothing with you, Alice,” he muttered. “Did you expose some sordid part of her past?”   
  


“I didn’t need to,” she said, smiling sweetly at him. “Elizabeth and that Lodge girl did the investigative reporting  _ independent of me _ .” She took a bite of the food that she’d ordered. “It’s not my fault that Fred didn’t notice anything strange about his son’s relationship with the woman,” she added. “Private  _ tutoring _ ? As if I would let my children take anything in private, with a  _ killer _ on the loose.”

 

“How  _ is _ Polly doing?” FP asked, his eyes filled with curiosity, as if he was determined to play the role of what? A concerned friend that cared about her missing child? “Have you convinced her to come home?”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said. 

 

“Yeah, well that makes two of us,” he said. “You think I like that I screwed up so badly that Jug would rather be around  _ you _ and  _ Cooper  _ than me?”

 

“Hal’s gone,” Alice whispered. “So he hasn’t been ‘around Cooper’.” 

 

“He’s left you?” 

 

Alice shook her head. “I kicked him out of the house,” she admitted. “We’re still not speaking.”

 

“What brought  _ that _ on?” 

 

“I’ll tell you, if you really care,” she found herself saying, shrugging her shoulders. It wasn’t like she had anyone else that she could really trust with the truth about her and Hal, Elizabeth had been told  _ some _ things but it was really unfair for Alice to keep burdening her teenager because she couldn’t function enough to have a husband that didn’t suck. And the amount of friends that Alice had were...well, they were pretty much nonexistent. Which was normally fine for Alice (who needed friends when your whole life was a lie?) but did prove problematic when she actually needed to converse with sane adults. She certainly wasn’t going to call up Penelope Blossom to shoot the shit. 

 

It was different with FP. She supposed that the Serpent King was her friend, even though she openly derided his behaviors, and those of the Southside in general (she was fairly certain that FP thought her articles were amusing, much to her complete and utter non-amusement at that assumption). Alice only wanted him to do better. To be the man that she’d known that he could be, before the drugs, and the drinking. Which, if she was honest, she blamed Fred Andrews for. How  _ dare _ that man sober up and then promptly abandon the friend he’d dragged down his dark path with him? She didn’t blame Jughead for being angry with Fred for that. FP had needed help, not being hung out to dry. 

 

“Of course I care,” he said. “I know we have our...differences now, Alice,” he continued. “But I’ve always cared about you. No matter how many articles you write about me.”

 

“Hal made Polly an appointment. At a clinic. To...make things go away. Like he did with me.” She took a sip of her drink, not able to look FP in the eyes as she confessed. “Do you remember, FP? Back at Homecoming? When we got into that fight? We were fighting about the baby,” she admitted. “Hal wanted me to get rid of it. He said I wasn’t fit to be a mother. I wasn’t going to do that. So, I went to the Sisters. I thought that was punishment  _ enough _ for her,” she continued. “Shouldn’t it have been? No wonder she doesn’t speak to me. No wonder she picked Penelope and Clifford over  _ me _ .”

 

“Alice…” 

 

“Nothing you can say will make me feel better,” she whispered. “I thought that kicking Hal out would make Polly come home and it just made things  _ worse _ and now I have  _ no one _ . Polly can’t stand me and Betty spends all her time with  _ your son _ trying to solve some  _ murder _ that I can’t even bring myself to care about because it’s just another  _ reminder _ of how much I screwed up. Maybe Polly’s right. I should have let her run off with him. They’d both still be alive.”   
  
Alice may have hated the Blossom boy for ruining Polly, but she hadn’t exactly wanted him dead.

 

Unlike Hal. 

 

“I don’t think that would be true,” FP said. “I mean...you don’t know that it would have been, do you?”   
  


“Of course I don’t,” she said. “I can’t blame Polly for wishing it had been, though.”

 

“Yeah, well, she’ll just be disappointed,” he muttered. “There’s no point in wishes, Alice. And I’ll tell her, that, if you want.”   
  


“I don’t know what I want,” she said. “I barely know anything anymore. My life is falling apart. I feel like you!” 

 

“You don’t mean that,” he said. “You’re nothing like me.”   
  


“You’re not a bad person, FP,” she said. “Not like me. I’ve done so many things. Things that I regret.”

  
  


***

  
  


“Get  _ up _ ,” Alice hissed, poking at the FP shaped lump on the couch, thoroughly unamused. “Forsythe Pendleton Jones the second, if you don’t wake up this  _ instant _ it will be the  _ last _ thing you do--”

 

“What do you want?”   
  
“What do I want?” Alice demanded. “What do I  _ want _ ? I want a day of peace, that’s what I want.”   
  


“You’re the one that  _ woke me up _ ,” he said. “How did you even get in here?”   
  


“Are you serious? You live in a trailer, FP. They’re not exactly known for being hard to break into.” She sat down on the couch beside him, wrinkling her nose at how he smelled. “Your son spent the night last night,” she said, gritting her teeth. “It appears that  _ numerous _ people in the Andrews house made him  _ uncomfortable _ with their  _ amorous _ intents. When I asked him  _ why _ he wanted to stay with us and not with  _ you _ , he told me that he’d  _ tried _ .”   
  


“Yeah, he came over earlier,” FP replied. “He was  _ much  _ happier than you were to see me.”

 

“That would be because I spent the  _ entire night _ plotting ways to  _ kill you _ .” Alice said. “You need to do better, Forsythe. Is it a program you need? Do you need to go to Toledo to be with Gladys and away from here? What is it? How can I help you fix yourself?”   
  


“You can’t help me, Alice,” he muttered. “I’m fucked.”

 

“Whatever you did, FP, I can  _ fix it _ ,” she insisted. “I can help, even if it means that Elizabeth and Jughead will have to be apart.” 

 

“Let me help you fix it.” She pleaded. “What did you do that was so terrible?”

  
  


“It’s not what I did,” he said. “It’s what I’ll get blamed for.”

 

“What is it?” 

 

“You don’t need to know,” he muttered. “Just...you need to get Polly out of that house, Alice. She can’t stay there.”

 

“Don’t try to distract me, FP.”

 

“I’m not trying to distract you,” he said. “I’m being serious. It’s not safe for her there.”

 

“You don’t think I’m trying?” She said. “She doesn’t talk to any of us.”   
  


“Try. Harder.” 

 

“I could say the same to you,” she said, flatly. “Whatever it is that’s causing you to drink so much, can you please try to find a healthier way to deal with it? You’re really upsetting Jughead when you do this.”

 

“You really care about him?”

 

“Of course I do,” Alice said. “I care about both of you.” 

  
“You’d pay for me to go to Toledo?” He asked. “Gladys would be pissed…”   
  
“I don’t care about Gladys,” she said. “I care about you not slipping into an alcohol induced coma, FP. And if sending you to Toledo and having her pissed off at me is how that can be dealt with...so be it. What’s another enemy?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re sorry?” He asked, and she nodded, drawing her coat closer to her. “Come on, my Northside Princess.”

“What the  _ hell  _ were you thinking?” Alice demanded, having returned to her house for approximately 30 seconds, before taking the keys to her station wagon off their hook and speeding off in the direction that FP had gone off in his truck, perfectly aware of how terrible it would look if Hal got wind of her going to FP’s trailer. Again. “Did  _ you  _ throw Jughead that  _ kegger _ ?”

 

“No,” FP said, slamming the door of his truck shut. “Why would I throw my own child a kegger? I know that you think I’m the world’s biggest fuck up, Alice, but I had  _ nothing _ to do with it. You want to know who threw Jughead that party?”   
  


“That would be nice, yes,” she said, cutting the engine of her car, deciding that she and FP would look less ridiculous if he wasn’t shouting at her station wagon in the middle of the street. “Tell me, FP, who threw that party?”   
  


“Your. Daughter.”   


“I beg your pardon,” Alice demanded, her eyes wide. “Which daughter?”

 

“Betty,” he said. “I don’t know if she intended for it to get as wild as it did, but…”   
  
“Elizabeth? Elizabeth threw him that party?” 

 

“That’s what I said, isn’t it? She was pretty insistent on my coming, by the way. Seems your daughter doesn’t mind the Southside as much as you and Hal would like.”

 

“ _ Enough _ , FP,” she commanded. “Don’t you dare lump me in the same category as Hal because you’re angry at me. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have assumed that you were the reason that things got out of control.”

  
“You’re sorry?” He asked, and she nodded, drawing her coat closer to her. “Come on, my Northside Princess.”   
  


“What?” 

 

“I’m inviting you inside, Alice,” he said, a smirk on his face. “I know, this is a new concept for you. Sometimes, you can get invited into people’s homes instead of breaking in.”   
  


“I was worried about you,” she admitted. “I shouldn’t have broken in, though. That was wrong.” She sighed, following FP into the trailer that he and Jughead had moved into after Gladys and Jellybean had left. “That wasn’t what I was questioning, though,” she added. “ _ My Northside Princess _ ?”

 

“What about it? It’s not like it’s not obvious you’re from the other side of the tracks,” he said. “You’re wearing  _ fur _ , Alice.” 

 

“I didn’t exactly plan to be here,” she pointed out. “This is how I dress. What do you want me to do, wander around town wearing black fringe?”   
  


“I guess it would ruin your street cred,” he admitted. “You think you could convince Cooper you wanted to go undercover and infiltrate us?”   
  
“God, can you imagine?” Alice asked, pursing her lips. “Hal would never be able to pull it off.” There was an evil glint in FP’s eyes, and she shook her head at his expression. “What are you thinking of, Mr. King of the Serpents?”   
  
“I was just picturing him running the Gauntlet,” he said, his tone downright wistful. “I was only kidding about the investigative reporting, but it would almost be worth it…”

 

“He fired me,” she muttered. “So I threw a brick at him.” She smiled sweetly at her ex-boyfriend, as if admitting she had thrown a brick at her husband was a sane, reasonable, thing for a person to do. “He’s been pissing me off, anyways.”   
  


“You threw a brick at Cooper?” 

 

“He upset me,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I would suggest you learn from his errors, FP. I would really hate to throw a brick at you, I think it would upset Jughead if I did. And that boy has enough to deal with without me throwing projectiles at you.”   
  


“Did you  _ hit _ him?” He asked.

 

“Not hard enough to hurt,” she said, disappointed in herself. “But I think that he learned his lesson when the brick smashed the entrance to the  _ Register _ .” She examined her nails. “If he hasn’t learned, the next brick I throw will be at his  _ idiot _ face.”

 

“Why do you stay with him?” 

 

“Appearances?” She offered, before shrugging her shoulders. “The kids? My desire to not have every secret I ever told him on the front page of the  _ Register _ ?” She cleared her throat. “Mainly the last one.”   
  


“Alice…” 

 

“I’m a big girl,” she told him. “I can handle myself.”

 

“But, if you can’t,” he said. “I would help, you know that. I would do anything for you.”   
  


“You need to focus on getting yourself better,” she said. “I’m fine, nothing horrible is going to happen to me, even if I take him back,” she assured him. “Hal is a terrible husband, but he’s too incompetent to even hurt a fly without it blowing up in his face.” 

 

“Elizabeth thought  _ he _ killed Jason Blossom,” she exclaimed, still finding the idea preposterous. “Is that not the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard? If it was him, he would have been caught already.” 

 

“Who do you think killed him? You must have an opinion,” he murmured, and she let him take her by the arm and lead her over to the couch, which, she noticed, was much cleaner than it had been the last time she’d been there. The whole trailer was, actually. And -- Alice sniffed the air -- FP no longer reeked of stale alcohol and poor decisions. 

 

“I couldn’t begin to tell you,” she said. “I think those  _ horrible _ Blossoms have something to do with it. They just...look evil. Ugh.”

 

“Jughead is writing a book about it.”

 

“Are you  _ sure _ he’s  _ your _ child?” Alice asked. “He’s writing a book? An actual book?” She was impressed at the youngest Forsythe Jones, but she thought writing about Jason Blossom’s death was so  _ morbid _ . Surely, Jughead could write about something  _ happier _ , like maybe the plague? 

 

“Yeah, the kids are investigating it,” he informed her. “No clue why.”   
  


“What?” Alice demanded. “I thought they  _ stopped _ that inanity? They told  _ you  _ about it?”

 

“Yup,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Why shouldn’t they tell me things?”   
  


“That wasn’t what I meant,” she said, shaking her head. “I just don’t understand why they are so  _ focused  _ on what happened to that child. It was tragic, but it was an  _ accident _ . Wasn’t it?”   
  


“Of course it was,” he answered. “Why wouldn’t it have been?”

 

“You’d tell me if you knew anything, wouldn’t you?” Alice asked him, sinking back against the couch, abandoning her public persona for a moment. “I would help you, you know that, right?”   
  


“I told you, Al,” he said. “The Serpents didn’t kill Blossom. I’m sorry your daughter’s boyfriend bit the dust, but none of us killed him.” 

 

“I’m not that sorry,” she admitted. “He ruined her...and now she’s taken in to their den of lies.”

  
  


***

  
  


“Did you kill him?” FP asked, and Alice shot him a glare. 

 

“For Heaven’s sake, FP,” she said, tone clipped. “Do you think that a body would have been found if I had killed him? How sloppy do you think I  _ am _ ? I certainly wouldn’t have dumped a dead body in  _ Sweetwater River _ .” She shook her head. “I think it was that twin of his.”   
  


“Why do you think that?”

 

“She was probably jealous of him and Polly,” she said. “It’s not like the Blossom blood isn’t tainted with  _ incestous  _ ways. Penelope was a Blossom before she married Clifford. It makes sense that Cheryl would consider my Polly  _ competition _ .”   
  


“Why didn’t she kill Polly, then?”    
  


“And watch Jason  _ mourn _ her? As if. And how dare Polly go around talking about Jason like he was the love of her life? How could she actually believe that?” 

 

“Al--”

 

“No, don’t ‘Al’ me,” she snapped. “I’m so tired of this. Everyone cares  _ so much _ about that stupid  _ boy _ . He died. The only reason anyone cares is because he’s a  _ Blossom _ . They wouldn’t care if it was  _ anyone _ else. And I’m so tired of Polly living with  _ his _ family. She needs to be home, with me. Doesn’t she  _ know _ what I sacrifice for her? No. I’m just her evil mother that sent her away. You should hear how she talks about me.”

 

She felt FP slip his arm around her shoulders, and she let herself inch closer to him, not caring about whether the action was improper or not. When was the last time Hal had held her? She honestly couldn’t remember, unless she was counting when they were in front of a camera. And that didn’t count for her. Those were photo opportunities. Where she played the role of his Stepford Wife (or, she supposed, his Northside Princess, though she thought that FP had been attempting to either make a joke or flirt with her when he’d called her that), and he pretended that he gave a flying shit about her, at least until the attention was off them. It felt different when FP hugged her, like he was doing it because he wanted to, and not out of a sense of obligation. 

 

“You’re not evil,” he whispered. “A bit frightening,” he allowed. “But, you’re not evil.”   
  


“Do you think that I’m crazy?” She asked, her voice small. “Sometimes, I wonder if I am.”   
  


“We’re all crazy,” he muttered. “Everyone in this shithole of a town. You don’t have a monopoly on crazy, Smith.” 

 

“Thanks, Jones.” She sighed. “I’m so tired.”

 

“You can stay, if you want,” he murmured. “I’d even let you have the bed.”   
  


“Where would you sleep?”

 

“Here,” he said, gesturing to the couch. “I’m a gentleman.”   
  


“What would you say, if I wanted to share the bed? If I stayed?”   
  


“I’d say that if that’s what you want, what kind of a man would I be to say no?” 

 

“A stupid one?” Alice offered. “And, Jonesy, I don’t think you’re a stupid man.”

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, you’re right, I probably wouldn’t,” she said, her tone sweet. “I’m not the one that you have to worry about, see, because I know how devastating finding out that a Serpent was in bed with the law would be for the Serpents,” she gave him a practiced innocent gaze. “It’s Hal that would publish it. He is majority owner.”

“Mom, can I talk to you?” Polly asked, standing in the entrance of her and Hal’s bedroom, managing to ignore the presence of Hal entirely while she addressed Alice, who was rather impressed at her skill in doing so. She made a mental note to ask Polly for advice on how to be so skillful (she could ask Hal for advice on how one ignored their own child who had just moved back home when she wasn’t seethingly mad at him). It was a good journalistic skill. Alice needed to learn it.    
  


“What about, darling?” She asked. “Is it about the babies?” Beside her, Hal made a noise of disapproval. Alice shot him a glare, before returning her gaze to Polly. 

 

“Uh, yeah,” Polly said after a moment, glancing briefly away before matching Alice’s gaze, and she wondered if her daughter was aware that she had a very specific tell about when she was lying. “I’m having weird pregnancy symptoms, and I don’t want to discuss them around Dad.”

 

Hal dared to speak. “Thank you, Polly,” he said, and she turned in his direction to scowl. Even if Polly was lying about having weird pregnancy symptoms, the fact that Hal wasn’t even pretending to care about his pregnant daughter was wearying Alice. If it wasn’t for the fact that she was determined to appear to be a normal, functioning, family unit, his comments would have left him out on his ass. 

 

“That’s fine, sweetheart,” Alice said, her tone soothing, as she slipped out of bed, slipping her bathrobe on over her pajamas. “We can go downstairs, and we can talk, okay?” She crossed the room to Polly, and threw her arm over her shoulders. “I’m sorry that you’re not feeling well.”

 

“I have to show you something, Mom,” she said, her tone serious. “Archie said that I needed to see this.” In her hands, Polly Cooper held a flash drive. “I watched it with him,” she continued. “And I think you need to see it too.”

 

Alice’s brows rose to impossible heights. There was nothing she wanted to do less than watch something that Archibald Andrews had recommended anyone watch, least of all something that was on a  _ flash drive _ . Ugh, she thought to herself, what if this was some hideous trap and he had gotten her innocent daughter watching  _ pornography _ , or something? At the same time, it had been so long that Polly had come to her for  _ anything _ , and, well, she had missed that.    
  


“Well, okay,” she said, handling the item with hidden distaste. “Why don’t you come with me into my office, we can watch it there,” she said. “Maybe after we can have some brownies?”

 

“I don’t think you’ll want to eat brownies after watching this,” Polly predicted, as she cued up the computer and pressed play on the recording. “I really, really, don’t.”

 

***

 

“To what to I owe the pleasure?” Tom Keller asked Alice and Polly Cooper, and it filled Alice’s heart with warmth when she detected a tone of fear in his voice. “It’s very late, Alice. Your children have already been by with ridiculous claims.”

 

“Are these ‘ridiculous claims’  _ recorded proof _ that Clifford Blossom killed his own son?” Alice demanded, aware of how loud her voice carried. “How dare you discount factual evident proof because you have some pointless grudge against Forsythe? Against the Serpents?” She shook her head. “Listen to me, and listen good,” she ranted. “If you don’t actually investigate the murderer of Polly’s babies’ father, I will  _ end you _ . How dare you coerce a confession out of FP because of a murder weapon  _ you  _ planted in  _ his  _ trailer? I don’t care if you planted it or not,” she added. “I will  _ end you _ politically and your little  _ lover  _ too, if you don’t end this ridiculous  _ witch hunt _ . Polly is pregnant. She doesn’t need you putting away an innocent man while the  _ very real _ killer is swanning around town being  _ lauded _ .”

 

“How do you know that I’m sleeping with Sierra?” He asked. Alice (who had been making the accusations up), smirked at him, trying to avoid acting on the unbridled rage that she felt. She wanted nothing more than to punch Tom Keller in his smug face. 

 

“Everyone can tell,” she settled on, her voice oozing with false pity. “You’re not very good at hiding things.” 

 

“FP Jones is a gang leader,” Tom said. 

 

“Is that your  _ defense _ ? Do you want to know something, Tom? I know someone we both know that doesn’t think gang members are all that dangerous,” she purred. “Someone...close to you. Wouldn’t it be a  _ shame _ if that was tomorrow’s headline in the Register? ‘Keller’s Son Lies in Bed with a Snake’? Imagine the papers that would sell, Polly. Think of how proud your father would be to run that article.”

 

“You wouldn’t dare,” he said. 

 

“Oh, you’re right, I probably wouldn’t,” she said, her tone sweet. “I’m not the one that you have to worry about, see, because I know how devastating finding out that a Serpent was in bed with the law would be for the Serpents,” she gave him a practiced innocent gaze. “It’s Hal that would publish it. He is majority owner.”

 

“What do you want from me?”

 

“Reduce, if not eliminate, those charges against FP,” she said flatly. “Find some way to get Clifford Blossom off the streets, so that my daughter and her babies can feel safe in our town. I swear to you, Tom, you better do that, or I  _ will _ publish that article.” She cleared her throat. “Oh, and another thing, you’re letting me see FP,  _ now _ .”

 

“Alice! It’s the middle of the night!”

 

“I’m a member of the press, Keller. I am the press. You will let me see him. And if you think that Polly is staying here with you while I do, you have another thing coming.” 

  
  


***

  
  


FP could hear the angry shouting from down the hall, and he slouched lower in his cell, wondering what it would take for him to get a decent amount of time to sleep without being interrupted by the various people that seemed content to flit in and out of his cell, as if he wasn’t a person with feelings. He had read that comic book from cover to cover (he’d practically memorized the damn thing), and he had been tempted to see if Keller could give him a radio or something to pass the time, but he didn’t want to give the Sheriff any more ammunition than he already had. 

 

The only comfort he had was that it was the middle of the night, so the familiar voice that was doing the shouting couldn’t interrupt his brooding solitude to visit and shout directly at him. He was pretty sure that was probably the  _ reason _ for the shouting, if he was honest. As far as FP was concerned, Alice Cooper could spend the entire night reading Tom Keller every riot act in the book. He couldn’t think of a person that deserved to be lectured by the blonde more.

 

Which was why, when the voices drew closer, he was filled with a feeling of dread. 

 

The Sheriff had made it clear that while he was allowed to have visitors, they had to be during normal hours, and they had to be pre-approved by his office. It was possible that FP had accidentally added Alice to his visitor list (and he sensed that the Sheriff would have sooner ate his hat than stood up to the woman), but it was  _ definitely _ the middle of the night, so even if FP had been so ridiculously stupid, Alice’s presence  _ in front  _ of him had to be a horrible, if vivid, nightmare. 

 

He would have called it a fantasy had she not had Tom Keller beside her, the man practically in a headlock. She was also wearing entirely too many clothes for this to be a fantasy. And there was the presence of the pregnant teenager to consider, too. 

 

“Mrs. Cooper has insisted that she speak to you,” Tom explained to him. “She’s press, she’s an exception to the visitation rules.”

 

He raised a brow. “You need to be here?” 

 

“Why would Tom want to bother with such...menial duties when he needs to navigate the highway of justice with slightly more aplomb than he currently desires to?” Alice asked, crossing her arms, a vague expression of displeasure on her features. “Surely he seeks to...seek out the  _ subject _ of that video. If only to avoid the embarrassment of my doing it myself, and not in a way the police would particularly like.”

 

“Right,” Keller said. “I trust Alice to watch you until I get back.”

 

“What do you want from me?” He asked quietly. “I swear, Alice, I didn’t kill him.”

 

“I know that,” she hissed. “Polly is here because she proved it to me.” 

 

“Joaquin gave that jacket to  _ her _ ? Why? I told him not to involve you.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Alice said, rolling her eyes. “He gave it to Keller Jr. And of course Tom just  _ discounted _ the kids having seen it as...delusions or something. Don’t get me started.” She sighed. “Unfortunately for my sanity, we have  _ Archibald _ to thank.”

 

“He gave me the flashdrive,” Polly said, and he wanted to thank her for sparing them Alice’s twenty minute explanation of whatever she thought needed to be explained to get to that point. “Told me that I needed to watch it, and after I watched it, I told Mom.”

 

“Thanks, Polly,” he said, feeling awkward. He wasn’t sure he had ever had an entire conversation with Alice’s older daughter during the entire time she’d been alive. And, yet, she had come through for him in a way that he couldn’t imagine. “Alice.”

 

“Don’t mention it, Forsythe,” she said, her tone blase. “You might be a moron, and you might make decisions I positively  _ loathe _ , but I would much rather have you living back on the other side of these bars in your trailer than put up with that social worker of Jughead’s for a second more.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m doing it for both of us.”

 

“Yeah, Archie mentioned his dad wasn’t able to be his foster parent,” he muttered. “Why are you…?”

 

“Don’t worry,” she told him. “Hal thought it was the best idea ever, but I have elected to spare Jughead being forced into my home in your absence. Considering Hal can’t even be bothered to speak to his own daughter...what business does he have signing poor Jughead up for being fostered by him?” 

 

“Where is he going?” He forced himself to ask. 

 

“Some family on the Southside,” she drawled. “At least, on paper. In reality, they have had a visit from an anonymous source that convinced them to let him live in your trailer.” She wrinkled her nose. “Okay, it was me.” 

 

Polly and FP exchanged a glance. “Obviously it was you, Mom,” she said. “Who else would put in the effort?”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am always a priority, Sheriff Minetta,” she drawled, a brow raised. “I am my priority, not some ridiculous grudge you’re holding against a teenage boy.” She shook her head. “I guess that pesky attempted murder charges aren’t under your jurisdiction anymore, which is really a shame. You’ll learn that money talks, and Hal has a lot of it. He might have needed the extra charges to really stick him in there. Goodbye, now.”

Alice eyed the new Sheriff with disdain, not entirely certain she was hearing what she thought she was hearing, but not at all amused with the topic of conversation he had tried to start if she was. “There is no neighborhood watch,” she said, her voice filled with exhaustion. “It was disbanded.” Seriously. Even if FP wasn’t currently in her bedroom (which Alice would neither confirm nor deny the assumption that he was), with Hal in jail, there was no need to continue the illusion of the existence of the establishment. “What do you possibly want from me?”   
  


“We’re seeking information about your neighbor,” Sheriff Minetta said, his tone smooth and his eyes wide with innocence, which she supposed a stupider person would fall for, but, alas, poor Sheriff, a stupid person Alice Cooper was not. “Archie Andrews. What can you tell us about him?

 

“He’s a high school student, a Northsider,” she said blandly, crossing her arms over her chest. “The neighborhood watch was made redundant several months ago, when the man that hired you came back into town. I suggest you find someone else to try to manipulate into feeding you ridiculous lies.” She leveled him with a glare. “That person, by the way, is  _ never _ going to be me. I have my own agenda, Sheriff. It doesn’t include falsifying information about minors.” 

 

“He wasn’t involved with your husband?” The Sheriff asked. Alice glowered.    
  


“As far as I know, Hal worked alone,” she said. “What is the matter with you? Implying Archie killed all those people, including nearly murdering his  _ own dad _ ? You need to grow up.” She shook her head. “You know, I think it’s interesting that you came around here to try to dig up dirt on a teenager, but couldn’t be bothered to follow up on my estranged husband trying to murder me. Some priorities that you have. Goodbye, Sheriff Minetta. Don’t come here again.”

 

Sheriff Minetta looked at her as if he was a fish, it was really an unattractive look. What had he expected? That she would offer him some sort of sound bite that would lead him down the path of Archibald Andrews’ quests of dubious legality? Ha. As if. Most of the quasi-illegal things Archie had done had been under her supervision, or at least direction. If he had done idiotic things on behalf of Hiram Lodge, whose problem was that? Not Alice Cooper’s. 

 

“You can’t expect to be priority,” the Sheriff said, and she cocked her head, peering at him with curiosity. “We caught the Black Hood, and that’s all that matters. It’s not like he really injured you, and domestics are common in small towns.”

 

“I am  _ always _ a priority, Sheriff Minetta,” she drawled, a brow raised. “I am my priority, not some ridiculous grudge you’re holding against a teenage boy.” She shook her head. “I guess that pesky attempted murder charges aren’t under your jurisdiction anymore, which is really a shame. You’ll learn that money talks, and Hal has a lot of it. He might have needed the extra charges to really stick him in there. Goodbye, now.” 

 

The Sheriff must have had some form of common sense, because the look on her face made him hightail it over to his patrol car.

  
  


“Shove whatever it is you want from me, up your damn ass!” Alice exclaimed as the patrol car drove away, not caring if he heard, before she stormed back into the house, thoroughly infuriated. The only reason that Alice didn’t slam the door off its hinges was the fact that she knew the Serpents had paid for her to get a new one, and she didn’t want to destroy their generosity in a moment of anger. 

 

“Was that a representative from Polly’s cult?” FP asked lightly, as she slammed her way into the kitchen, annoyed beyond all measure of belief. “Or was it another person who came by wanting to gawk?”

 

“Worse,” she said. “That incompetent Sheriff,” she groused. “I complained all the time about Tom Keller, but I never realized how  _ good _ we had it with him until this ineffectual buffoon rolled into town.” She sighed. “Can’t be assed to investigate myself being nearly murdered, but he can spend time questioning Archie’s attendance record or something absolutely banal.” FP chuckled, and she rolled her eyes. “What is so funny?”

 

“Nothin’, Al,” he assured her. “I just never thought I would hear something so close to a compliment about Tom Keller leave your lips.”

 

“I wouldn’t get used to it,” she said. “Are you really sure that Polly belongs to a cult, FP? Don’t you think that’s a little judgmental?”

 

“Alice,” he said. “Remember how we talked about going off to a farm sounded a little...permanent? Remember? I brought you that bottle of wine?”

 

“You stole that bottle of wine from my wine storage,” she corrected, gesturing to the space where the bottle had been. “It was a good choice, though.” She sighed. “Yeah, Jonesy, I remember,” she conceded. She offered him a ghost of a smile. “I just think it would be nice to get away from here.”

 

“You can’t run away from all of your problems, Alice,” he told her. “No matter how hard you might want to. No one can.”

 

“Polly said—“

 

“Polly lied,” he said. “Oh, maybe she didn’t lie, Alice. Maybe she genuinely believes in her little cult. She’s probably brainwashed. Do you really want to follow in the footsteps of your teen runaway daughter? What would people think? That’s a Northsider thing, right, caring about what people think?”

 

Alice rolled her eyes at FP’s dig at the Northside, though she knew he meant it with love. “You’re ridiculous, you know that, right?” 

 

“Yeah, I know,” he said, a smirk on his lips. “What are you gonna do about it?”   
  


“I’m not going to do a thing about it,” she said. “Feel free to be as ridiculous as you want as long as you never cause that  _ moron _ to darken my front door again. Because, Jonesy, no matter how much I still love you, I do not want to deal with Minetta to do so.”

 

Alice wasn’t exactly sure how to describe her relationship that had developed with FP over the weeks since...that  _ incident _ had happened, and she wasn’t sure that she  _ wanted _ to define it, or if what they had together even had a name. She supposed that technically they were boyfriend and girlfriend, but that seemed so  _ sophomoric _ given that they were grown adults with children (and whose children were dating, to top it off), and the other substitutes didn’t entirely suit them either. Alice knew that they loved each other, and that FP made her feel safe, and loved. It had been awhile since that had happened. After the last few months, that was all she cared about.

 

“You’d really leave me in there with that Sheriff?” He asked idly.

 

“I would help you escape,” she said smoothly, planting a kiss on his lips. “As long as I didn’t have to deal with him.” 

 

“Baby, if I was escaping, you’d never see him,” he murmured, as he settled a hand on her hip. “I promise you, I won’t be a dumbass,” he continued. “I’ll even stop being the King. I mean it, this time. I’ll put Jug in my place.”

 

“What?” She asked. “Why would you do that? Don’t be ridiculous, FP, he’s a  _ child _ .”

 

“We were children too, when it was us,” he retorted. “Doesn’t he deserve it, Al? He was left for half dead.”

 

“We were just kids, Jonesy. Just like ours. Stupid kids that didn’t know a damn thing worth anything.” She shook her head. “They haven’t been kids in awhile, have they been?” 

 

“I don’t think so,” he admitted. “It’s not your fault, Alice. It’s this town. It takes everything perfect and turns it to shit.”

 

“Nothing is perfect, Forsythe,” she corrected. “Not even me, and certainly nothing about this town. I feel like I’m living in a gothic nightmare. Every day it keeps getting worse. Why do you think the farm appealed to me so much?” Alice shuddered. “I hate it here.”

 

“You could stay with me,” he told her. “In my ‘soup box of a trailer’.”

 

“I’m sure that Jughead would be so  _ thrilled _ to give up his room for his girlfriend’s mother,” she said. “No, it’s fine,” she said. “It’s not the house,” she admitted. “It’s everything it stood for. It’s people like that  _ plant _ pretending that everything is fine now that Hal’s in the slammer. It’s the fact that our hometown is being run by the low rent version of  _ Mob Wives _ . Real Housewives. Whatever.” 

 

“That’s an actual thing?” He asked.    
  


“You didn’t miss much,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Just her general...you know. Except televised.” Alice sighed. “What is that noise?”

 

FP shrugged, holding her closer. “Dunno, sounds like the Serpents, why?”

 

“That doesn’t concern you?” She queried. “Given that we’re on the Northside of town? Shouldn’t we investigate?”

 

“I’ll go over,” he said. “Maybe they’re all hanging out with Archie.” For some reason, Alice was dubious. She expressed her opinion with a pointed look. “Yeah, maybe it’s something to look into,” he agreed.

 

“That’s right, it’s something to look into.” 

  
  


***

  
  


The visit from Sheriff Minetta had completely managed to escape Alice’s mind, and she was therefore unprepared for the onslaught of teenagers that she found in her living room, looking to be in varying states of shock and distress. Or for a truly hideous vase (that had been a present from Hal’s mother) to be on the floor of said living room, shattered, the contents littering the floor clear across the room from where it had been placed, as if it had been thrown. The mixture of North and Southsiders caused her to stare at them in confusion, until her presence was acknowledged by one of them.

 

Or, rather, before Alice was hugged by a hysterical blonde, whom she prayed was Betty, not that she seemed able to get a single word out of her. 

 

“What is the matter?” She demanded. “Elizabeth, what is the matter with you?” Betty continued to sob into Alice’s sweater, and she surveyed the room, trying to make sense of what she was experiencing. “Would anyone like to illuminate me as to what you are all doing here?” She demanded of the group. “In the middle of the school day! Why are you all skipping school?”   
  


Betty continued to weep. No one seemed willing to produce an explanation at all, let alone one that would satisfy Alice Cooper. The other teens seemed to be in a state of shock. Well, Alice decided, displeasure washing over her, that she would demand an explanation, whether they wanted to give her one, or not. If that didn’t work, she would get FP. 

 

“Veronica Lodge,” she settled on. “Would you care to explain to me what you are all doing here?”

 

“It’s my dad,” she said softly. He--”

 

“Is he dead?” Alice asked idly, offering Betty a better tissue than her cashmere sweater. “Did he die brutally? I want details. For journalistic purposes.”

 

“I wish he was dead,” she said. “He had the Sheriff arrest Archie during the assembly today.” 

 

“For what?” Alice demanded. “Crimes against my intelligence?”

 

“For murder, Mom,” Betty managed to blubber. “They think he killed Cassidy Bullock,” she continued, her voice muffled. “But it wasn’t him. It was  _ Andre _ .” 

 

“Don’t be so ridiculous,” she told them. “I’m sure you misunderstood.” Alice’s actions betrayed her words, however, as she reached for the television remote and switched on the cable, hastily managing to cancel the rerun of Real Housewives she’d pulled up to mock with FP while the kids were gone, before switching the channel to the local news. While Alice typically found the television news to be sophomoric, cloying, and insulting, something this ridiculous would definitely be on it. Or, she suspected, wouldn’t be on it, and she could send the motley crew taking up valuable space in her house back to school.

 

Except, much to Alice’s shock, there was the Sheriff, there was Hiram Lodge, and there was Archie sitting between them, in handcuffs. 

 

“My God,” she breathed. “Sit down, Elizabeth.” Alice sat her child down on the couch, practically shoving her on Jughead’s lap, before she delicately perched on the arm of her love seat. “My God.”

 

“I’m sorry about your vase, Cousin Alice,” she heard Cheryl say as she stared at the television. “It reminded me of my mother.” 

 

“I hated that vase,” she said, trying to make sense of the utter disaster that was unfolding on her television. “Pass me that phone,” she commanded the Serpent boy with the vegetable inspired nickname, which she couldn’t entirely recall but she suspected FP had a hand in bestowing upon him. “I’m going to excuse you all from school. And then I am going to call Fred and ask him to come over. He doesn’t know, does he?”   
  


“Where’s my dad?” Jughead asked.

 

“Oh, he’s upstairs,” she answered, squinting at the television while dialing the school, answering Jughead’s question with thought and intent unfortunately taking a backseat to the miscarriage of justice she saw in the making. “Probably in the bedroom.”

 

“Mom!” Betty exclaimed. Alice waved her away. “How do you know that?”

 

“Because that’s where we were, Elizabeth?” She said, effortlessly changing the subject, and her tone, when the school picked up. “Hello, Principal Weatherbee? This is Alice Cooper…”

 

“What’s goin’ on?” She heard FP ask. “What are you all doing here? What are you watching?”

 

“The news,” she told him, and she settled down on his lap when he crossed the room to the chair. “I told the children they can stay,” she added blithely, waving a hand in their direction. “We have a problem.” When Hiram Lodge opened his mouth to spout inanities at the reporter, she switched on the captioning, muting the sound. Breaking that vase was acceptable, breaking her big screen television was not something she approved of. “What do you see on the TV screen?” She asked him.

 

“That douchebag Lodge and that idiot Sheriff,” he supplied. “And Red. What’s he doing with them? I thought he was done with that shit.”

 

“Daddykins said he was going to make him pay for what he did,” Veronica supplied, her voice small. “Mrs. Cooper, are you going to make me go home?”

 

Alice felt herself getting a headache. “I don’t care what you do, have a sleepover with Elizabeth if that’s what you want.”

  
  


***

  
  


Television was a sophomoric medium, and, yet, Alice Cooper had approached the news station herself, offering them an exclusive interview, citing her years of experience at the Riverdale Register, and then, when that failed, she had appeared to the channel’s baser instincts and offered them an exclusive interview with the estranged wife of the Black Hood. The things she debased herself for for the sake of the children.

 

She had bailed Archibald out, anonymously, of course. The cash had mysteriously appeared on Fred Andrews’ kitchen table, and if the handwriting on the note accompanying it was blatantly Alice’s, she wasn’t going to admit it. She knew that Fred had his pride. Fred had pride, Alice had money, and they may as well get to maintain the illusions of having both. 

 

Unfortunately, the editorial (scathing though she was sure the students at Riverdale High had found it!) that she had been reduced to publishing in the  _ Blue and Gold _ (Alice was...not dealing with the Register at the moment) proclaiming that she believed in Archie’s innocence had reached deaf ears. Hiram Lodge didn’t seem to care about getting his daughter back in the house, let alone examine his moral failures that had led him to cause a teenage boy to be wrongfully arrested, for  _ murder _ , of all things. 

 

Hence, Alice’s appearance on the television. Archibald owed her.

 

“What are the four of you doing?” Alice asked Jughead and Betty warily, not even daring to question FP or Veronica about why the four of them were snickering at the television. “Are you mocking my appearance on the news?”

 

“They’re roasting the Real Housewives,” Jughead said, his tone wearied. “It’s my fault, really. I asked Dad to try to find common ground with Veronica, and the common ground that he apparently picked was the fact that neither of them had seen the show before.”

 

“I see,” she said. “Okay, then.” She thought about putting a stop to the ridiculousness, before taking in the fact that the foursome seemed happy, or happier than she’d seen in awhile, and she held her tongue, delicately sitting on the couch beside FP. “Having fun, Jonesy?” 

 

“You should be on this show,” he suggested. 

 

“I’m not a housewife,” she said, rolling her eyes at the thought. “I’m not even a wife wife. Nor do I live in New York City. But, it’s sweet that you think I could have a future on television,” she said. She planted a kiss on his kiss, while he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Let’s get this over with.”

 

Alice had insisted on pre-recording her interview. She was her freshest when she was in control. 

 

She flipped the channel. 

 

Television was an unforgiving medium, she decided, wrinkling her nose at her appearance. 

 

“I thought you were going to be interviewed,” FP whispered. “What the hell did you do?”   
  


“Oh, they got their interview,” she said. “I suppose they’ll play that for the 11 o’clock ratings. I merely got them to allow me to say a few words as a reward for behaving.”

 

“This is Alice Cooper, editor-in-chief of the Riverdale Register here, with a public statement regarding the actions of Sheriff Minetta and Hiram Lodge regarding the unlawful arrest of a local high school student due to Mr. Lodge taking continued exception to teenagers being teenagers, and his wife being perfectly capable of making relationship decisions while she thinks the law has put him away for good,” television Alice said, and if she looked like Alice who had gone to the Wyrm for FP’s retirement party, well...that was purposeful. “It is disgraceful to put children in perilous positions as a form as punishment for their parents’ sins, and I do not believe that Sheriff Minetta is tough on crime, when he arrests 16 year old boys based on the lies of a madman but lets actual, real, crime go unpunished because the victims affected ‘weren’t killed’.”

 

“Riverdale needs a Sheriff and a Mayor that can allow the community to heal, to recover, from the damage that Clifford Blossom did to this town, from the damage that my husband, Harold Cooper, did to this town, and the damage that Hiram Lodge has inflicted and will continue to inflict upon Riverdale and its citizens. I admit that I have written articles designed to shame, to punish. I don’t deny that. I do not approve of falsifying murder evidence as an act of pettiness. I know what a murderer looks like. I lived with a murderer, had children with him, built a life, almost died at his hands. Archibald Andrews is not a murderer.” 

 

Television Alice cleared her throat, looking at her notes before continuing. 

 

“I also need to state on the record that the Sheriff believes a joke that my boyfriend and I started back when we were younger to be a factual occurrence. There is no neighborhood watch on the Northside of Riverdale. There never was. I just wanted to protect myself from my husband while I spent time with a friend. I certainly would have never used it for the purposes he wanted me to in regards to this case.” She sighed. “Last year at the Jubilee, my daughter Elizabeth spoke of wanting to live in a town that wasn’t divided, where everyone got along and there was no undercurrent of fear. Obviously, the exact opposite has occurred. I won’t stand by and watch things fall further. I believe in Riverdale. I believed in FP Jones, and I believe in Archie Andrews. If it costs my job, I have to accept that. Thank you for listening.”

 

“You have to accept that? Mom, are you feeling okay?” Betty asked, her tone worried.

 

“I only said that so I wouldn’t sound petty on television, Elizabeth. I’ll sue the Lodges for every penny they have.”

  
  



End file.
